Death Master and Angel Son
by InsertPotterThemedUsernameHere
Summary: Dean meets with Death to get his ring only to find out Death does not have it: his true master does. Now the Winchesters are on the search for Harry James Potter, the Master of Death. Will they be prepared for what they find? And why does Harry seem to hate Castiel? Slash, past mpreg, Wizarding World!Bashing, EWE, Harry is Castiel's son
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Death Master and Angel Son

**Summary**: Dean meets with Death to get his ring only to find out Death does not have it: his true master does. Now the Winchesters are on the search for Harry James Potter, the Master of Death. Will they be prepared for what they find? And why does Harry seem to hate Castiel?

**Disclaimer**: If you recognize it, I don't own it. I make no money, so don't sue me. Please and thank you.

**Warning**: Slash, past mpreg, Wizarding World!Bashing, EWE, Harry is Castiel's son, angst

**Rating**: T – though may change

**Pairing**: Dean/Castiel (inevitably), Castiel/James Potter (previously)

**Note**: As stated, this will be slash and has been mpreg, so please no flames. Constructive criticism is welcome. This story is a result of the poll I had put up: a SPN/HP fic where Harry was Master of Death and Castiel's son. I have no timeline planned on when new chapters will be released. This is a taster chapter to gauge interest – so please let me know what you think. Also, if you go to my profile you can view my other crossover story and where you can find me on other websites (AO3, Tumblr, Twitter) where I post updates on my writing and crosspost. Please enjoy. Love, Insie

Chapter One

_"Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."_

_-Death (5x21 "Two Minutes to Midnight")_

"If you give me your ring, we can put Lucifer away, unbind you," Dean insisted, trying to negotiate with Death. They needed the ring to put that angel dick in the ground and prevent the apocalypse: the world depended on it.

"My ring – that I cannot give Dean Winchester," Death drawled mournfully as he continued to cut into his deep-dish pizza.

"But don't you understand what Lucifer will do–" Dean started, only to be interrupted.

"As a matter of fact, I do understand, Mr. Winchester," Death snapped and his voice turned to ice. "I have been in this universe long before you, Lucifer or even maybe _God _– it's been so long, neither of us can remember. I have seen empires come and go in the blink of an eye. I have seen war and destruction by the hands of the sinful and righteous alike. You will do well to remember with whom you are speaking to, Dean Winchester, and how insignificant you truly are."

"Now, if you paid attention," Death continued, back to his usual drawl, "I said 'I cannot give' you my ring not that I would not give you my ring. I have no ring to give, I'm afraid."

"But –" Dean gestured to the visible white ring on Death's finger. "Your hand?"

"Oh, this?" Death said, and lazily flicked his wrist. The ring vanished from sight in a wisp of smoke. Dean's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. "Nothing more than illusion. Wouldn't want the reapers to know I'm without the ring, you know."

"Where is it?" Dean growled, and slammed his fists on the table.

"Calm yourself, young one – wouldn't want to have a heart attack now would you," Death chuckled, and then returned to his sullen mood. "You are asking the wrong question. It's not a matter of where, for I have no idea where it is, but I do know the _whom_. He is hidden from me, however..."

"He?" Dean ever the determined one, latched onto to that word-clue. "Someone else has your ring?"

"And finally you catch on," Death said and scowled. "Yes. My _master_ has my ring."

"Lucifer?" Dean bellowed.

"No, no," Death replied swiftly. "Another is my true master."

"You have a _true_ master?" Dean questioned, not believing what he was hearing.

"I know, isn't it just _awful_," Death replied moodily and stabbed his pizza with his fork. "An awful mistake of a deal that I made years ago with those damn Peverells. Too much hubris on my part, I fear. Well, you live and learn – or die and learn, as it were. Anyway, he that is the holder of the Deathly Hallows and has mastered Death himself is the Master of Death. He is who you will need to find in order to locate my ring."

"And who is he?" Dean asked quickly, knowing his time was rather short. They would be bringing him back to life at any moment.

"He had many names before he hid from me: the Boy-Who-Lived, the Freak, and the Chosen One. But, the name he was born to was Harry James Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: I am so happy with the response this story has gotten in so little time! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and followed! Again, there will be no planned updates, just when I have time. But, there is an outline that I am following, so even if it is a while, I will return to this fic.

Please enjoy.

**Chapter Two**

As Dean waited at Bobby's house for Cas, Bobby and Sam to return from stopping the distribution of the croatoan-laced swine flu vaccine, he thought about his interaction with Death. The outcome of the meeting had come out of left field. He thought that he would have had the last ring or been killed in the process: instead, here he was alive and well, sitting on the porch with a beer, and one ring short.

Dean drank the last sip of said beer and then got up and went inside. It would do him no good to just be moping around like some dog that lost his bone. Instead, he sat down at the kitchen table and started to write down a list of what Death at told him about his master.

Master of Death

- Harry James Potter (Boy-Who-lived, Freak, Chosen One)

- Hiding from Death

- Deathly Hallows (?)

- Guy who has hallows and mastered death can then be Master of Death

- Master of Death thing happened with a deal made by Death to the Peverells

"Son of a bitch!" Dean mumbled, as he realized how little information he actually had. Death had refused to tell him any more, saying that Dean had enough of the pieces to figure it out, and if Dean wanted Chicago to still be standing, then the man would leave him in peace to finish his pizza.

Dean could only hope that Sammy, Bobby, or Cas would have more information or a plan on how to track down the Master of Death.

At that moment, he heard the truck pull up in the driveway.

"Speak of the devil," Dean said has the three he had been thinking about walked into the house.

"I don't understand, Dean," Castiel said in his normal gravely voice, as he entered the room. The angel leaned against the counter, with his head quirked like a puppy. "Why would you want us to speak of Lucifer? Do you have new information?"

"Uh – Cas that's not what I – you know what, never mind," Dean said, shaking his head. Sometimes it was just not worth it. "So how did it go?"

"All good work on our parts, and all parts working good," Bobby said as he went to the fridge to pop open himself and Sammy a beer. Sammy sat down at the table with Dean, but Bobby stayed standing. Dean could see how springy the man's step was, and although he wished Bobby had not made the deal, he was glad to see the old man on his feet again. "What about you? We heard nothing from you, idjit. Half-thought you was dead if it wasn't for the Chicago weather reports saying that the storm had miraculously disappeared."

"Yeah, I spoke with Death," Dean said, and unsure of how to tell them what happened.

"Well?" Bobby prompted. "Did you get the ring or not?"

"No, I didn't," said Dean. "Death didn't have it. Said he made a deal with 'those damn Peverells' and ever since has not had the ring. Now his _true master_ has the ring: the Master of Death. His name is Harry James Potter, though he has had some other names. I wrote down all that he told me here," and he passed the note to Sam and Bobby read the note together. Castiel came over to them and read over their shoulders quickly, then retreated to his spot by the counter.

The three men missed the subtle grimace the angel's face took. It was gone within moments.

"That's it?" Sam asked, a bit disbelieving, as it looked back to his brother. That was not a lot of information to go on.

"You try to kill Death and then have a conversation with him!" Dean rebuffed and crossed his arms defensively. "Look, at least we have a name – or names. Maybe we can run a check for Harry James Potter?"

"Yeah, but Dean, I hardly think he'll be in the phone book," Sam scoffed and took a drag of his beer.

"Well, then we can look up lore on the Deathly Hallows," Dean continued, trying to be optimistic. They had to figure out a way that they could stop the apocalypse without Sam saying yes. "Have you heard of anything like this Bobby?"

Bobby stroked his beard.

"Funnily enough, I think I have," he then left the kitchen, and they heard him going through the books in the living room. He came back a few minutes later with a thin book titled _Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

"That's a reference?" Dean said, taking it and flipping through it. "It look's like a baby's picture book."

"That's because it is, _idjit_!" Bobby snapped and snatched back the book. "It's a supposed to be a Wizarding fairy tales book."

"Wait, so witches read this to their little witch babies?" Dean balked.

"Not witches as you know them, Dean," Castiel interjected. Dean turned to look at him but Cas instead looked out a window instead of making eye contact. "There are humans who don't make deals or corrupt their souls to gain it, but rather are born with magic."

"There is nothing in dad's journal about humans born with magic," Sam said, and looked from Castiel to Bobby.

"They have entire communities and shroud themselves in secrecy, because of the persecution that was done to them in my father's name. That's probably why you've never heard of them," Castiel said as he eyed the book. "I am surprised you have a copy of one of their texts."

"Got it in a trade from a hunter in New York," Bobby explained gruffly as he flipped through the book. "Said it was Wizarding, and she had written notes within in about her theories. I wasn't sure about it, but I got it anyway, 'cause I didn't think it would hurt none. I thought it was just myth. Just like I thought vampires and angels were myths, too. Go figure."

"Wait, so if they have magic, why don't they do anything to fix this?" Sam asked. "Or go after Supernatural creatures that attack others?" He was amazed that true magic users existed but was frustrated that they seemed to do nothing to help others. Just like the angels.

"Magic cannot solve everything, Sam," replied Castiel, sage-like as ever. "And yours is the expectation many will have. They refuse to lift a hand to help the mundane for fear of their world being revealed and them be persecuted or used by other humans. You do not have a good history of treating them with respect."

"Right, so, here it is the 'Tale of Three Brothers,'" Bobby said, getting down to business before an argument could start. He read the story aloud, along with the handwritten notes on the margins, and Sam wrote down the key information from the story onto Dean's list.

"Tales of Three Brothers" _Tales of Beedle the Bard_

- Deathly Hallows (Elder Wand, Resurrection Stone, Cloak of Invisibility)

- Peverells (the Three Brothers)

- Antioch: Elder Wand (Unbeatable)

- Cadmus: Resurrection Stone (Can bring an echo of deceased)

- Ignotus : Cloak of Invisibility (Can hide from Death) - Gave to son

"Okay, so Death said that a person who has all three hallows and masters Death then becomes the Master of Death," Sam said, going over their list. "So this Potter had to have had all three Hallows and then 'mastered death'. How would you master death?"

"'To conquer death, you only have to die,'" Castiel said, thinking hard (1). "The way to master death is not to flee it but to welcome it, as our Lord did, and then overcome it."

"So are you saying that we have a modern Jesus on our hands?" Bobby grimaced.

"No, there is only one messiah," Castiel replied, literal as ever. "He would have had to have had the deathly hallows on him as he sacrificed his life and accepted death."

"OK, so if he had a wand – you would think that he would be a magic-user – a wizard then," Sam said, talking it through. "We didn't even know that a Wizarding community existed, how will we be able to find him if he is within one?"

"Wait a minute - can you track him, Cas?" Dean asked, but his hopes were dashed when the angel just shook his head.

"Ever since I saw the name, I tried to find him, but he is hidden," Castiel said, frowning.

"So what hides him from Death – it can hide him from angels, too?" Sam asked.

"I am not sure," Castiel replied. "It is as if he does not exist – like the protections I put on you and Dean."

"There has to be some way to track him down," Dean said and drummed his fingers on the table.

Sam turned back to their notes and came up with a thought.

"You have to have all of the hallows to become Master of Death," Sam stated, thinking. "So the wand seems to be a wildcard – no real way to track it, if it goes from person to person the way it was shown in the story. The stone, it doesn't seem to have a way of being passed around, so no clues on that end. But, the cloak – what if it was passed down through the family in real life just as it was in the story? Maybe if we try and track down Ignotus Peverell's line and cross-reference that with Harry James Potter we can have a start." The younger Winchester then turned to Castiel. "Could you do that Castiel?"

"Now that I am cut off from Heaven, no," Castiel said slowly, still not making eye contact, and Dean felt something was off with him, as if the angel was holding something back. Dean was about to confront him, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Maybe I can be of some help, boys?"

The three humans and the angel turned their heads to see Crowley, King of the Crossroads, standing at the kitchen door with a cocksure grin.

(1) From "Poor Jerusalem" in _Jesus Christ Superstar_

**AN**: Hey guys! I also have a poll up for what form Harry's animagus will be on my profile. Check it out. See you next time! Love, Insie


	3. Chapter 3

**Note**: Again, thank you for your encouragement! Keep it coming - it keeps me going ;)

Chapter Three

_Previously:_

_"Maybe I can be of some help, boys?"_

_The three humans and the angel turned their heads to see Crowley, King of the Crossroads, standing at the kitchen door with a cocksure grin._

"And just how is that Crowley?" Dean asked and stood in a defensive posture. "You weren't a great help with Death. And just how long have you been listening in?"

"I found him though, didn't I," Crowley replied. "And long enough to know you are looking for Harry Potter."

"How can you find him if even Death can't find him?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Death can't find him?" Crowley repeated in surprise. "Ooh, now that's interesting. And I will answer you only if you answer me – where is Death's ring? I see you don't have it Dean-o, after all that, such a shame."

The Winchesters looked at one another and stayed silent.

"Oh, come on," Crowley gruffed. "Fine, then I will just use some context clues: Dean went to Death to get his ring, Dean came out alive with no ring and is now looking for Harry Potter. Doesn't take a genius, I just want confirmation: did Death say that Potter had the ring?"

Unable to articulate any response, Dean just nodded.

"So it's true!" Crowley said and rubbed his hand to his face. "There was rumor, but –"

"Wait – so you know of Harry James Potter?" Sam exclaimed.

"Know him?" Crowley laughed. "Of course I know him – he only killed hundreds of demons in a day. The man is legend. Made most of the demons flee Britain."

"Wait, so this guy is a hunter?" Dean asked.

"Not as such, no," Crowley said, and he took the seat that Dean had left, propped his feet up on the table and folded his hands behind his back. Dean in turn scowled and went to lean up against the counter next to Cas. "He defeated a Wizarding Dark Lord who was trying to take over the world, blah, blah, blah. Lord Voldemort had summoned a demon army and had promised them the moon. That's where I saw him, on the battlefield. He defeated the Dark Lord, but that wasn't the end of it. The Wizarding followers ran, the cowards, but the demons continued to attack. We had been promised so much and didn't want to go back into the pit. He slaughtered hundreds of them with his bare hands, just smiting them with awesome power. Then black flames kindled around him, and he vanished with a shockwave of red, and all we demons that were left were sent back to the pit. No demon has seen him since."

"If no one has seen him since, how will you be able to find him?" Bobby asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"While no one as _seen_ him, there have been direct clues of his _existence_," Crowley answered, scathingly. "Demons were afraid to return to Britain until after a while there was no sign of the Potter brat. Then, they came up one by one only to become missing within a week. No demon who went ever returned. Even stranger was that every deal I or another crossroads demon had made was canceled days before the hounds were to fetch them. We never investigated, but there was no doubt in our minds that the wizard was behind it. No one had ever broken a deal before, just as no one had ever permanently killed so many demons before... It makes sense now."

"Yeah? How so?" Dean asked, warily.

"Only Death can void deals," the demon answered. "And, if he is literally _Death Master_, then that would mean he could as well."

"So, then we find someone in Britain who has a deal coming up and stake them out until Potter arrives," Sam exclaimed.

"No can do, Moose," Crowley shot down with a smirk. "There isn't a soul in Britain promised to hell, or at least not contracted. It's been 12 years since the demons were first expelled, and no contract goes longer than a decade. No new contracts were made since then in Britain – no demon's willing to step even a toe on that island."

"So what is your proposal, then?" Castiel asked, his eyes narrowing at the demon. "You wouldn't still be here if there wasn't something you had in mind."

"Alright, alright, no need to get your feathers ruffled," Crowley drawled. He took his feet off the table and leaned forward with his hands steepled together. "As I said, there isn't a soul in Britain – at the moment – that has a contract. But, we could change that. Set a trap – send someone with a contract there and snatch him up when he goes to relieve it."

"So we send Bobby?" Sam asked, looking to the older man. Said man scowled and opened his mouth to say something only to be cut off before he started.

"We could, if you wanted to wait ten years when his contract is ready to end," Crowley said.

"Wait – I thought the deal was you would find Death for us and was just holding Bobby's soul as collateral but that you would return it," Sam said, in a worried tone.

"Yes – and I gave him his legs back, no need to thank me," Crowley grumbled and then clarified, "But, all contracts must have deadlines. I put his at the standard ten years, with the thought you lot would be able to kill Lucifer sooner than that. No, it'll have to be Dean."

Dean startled, and Sam rose from his chair so quickly it fell over. Castiel uncrossed his arms and changed his stance, ready to defend Dean.

"Bullshit," Bobby exclaimed and stood in between Crowley and Dean. "Just make a new deal with me."

"Nope – can't have more than one contract going at the same time, Bobby-boy," Crowley said, not the least bit intimidated by the posturing in the room. "And I won't end that contract until Lucifer is dead and gone – like I said before, nice insurance to make sure I survive the apocalypse alongside you lot."

"Why not me?" Sam asked quickly.

"Sammy, no –" Dean started.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, Dean-o, I wouldn't make a contract with Jolly Green here with or without your protestations," Crowley sneered. "If Lucifer found out I made a contract with his vessel, I would be dead – completely and utterly dead, and unlike you lot, I have no death wish. No, it'll have to be Dean, if we want this to work."

There was a moment of silence as this information brewed within the men and the angel.

"How would this deal work?" Dean asked and held up his hands to the others' protests. "God and everybody else and their grandmas know that the last thing I want is to be promised back to the Pit. But I want to hear what the deal would be before we turn it down."

"You would promise to give your soul to hell in one week in the hopes that the contract will be nullified by the Death Master," Crowley said. "If at the end of the week no Death Master appears, then the contract will become null and void. Do we have ourselves a deal?"

"Sammy, any loopholes?" Dean asked, keeping eye contact with Crowley.

"Dean, you can't –" Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

"Sammy, any loopholes?" Dean repeated firmly.

Sam looked like he was about to cry or flip the table or both. He took a breath and rubbed his palms on his face.

"Well – you'll need to add that if Potter appears and does not nullify the contract that the contract will still be nullified by Crowley at the end of the week," Sam said in a lawyerly fashion. "But Dean, there must be another way we can track him without having your soul promised to Hell. Again."

"Sammy, not a day ago you were shooting your mouth off about saying yes to _the Devil_," Dean snapped. "If signing this contract will get us closer to killing the son of a bitch, then I'm doing it."

"Cas – c'mon say something," Sam begged, turning to the angel. "You can't let Dean do this."

Dean turned to Cas and wondered what the angel would say. Before Crowley barged in, Dean had noticed something off about Cas, as if he was hiding something. While they all listened to Crowley's tale about the Death Master, Dean noticed that Cas had tensed up. The angel knew something. But what?

"Sam, when we were in the vehicle, I agreed with you that the option you may have to take is saying yes to Lucifer," Castiel said, his voice monotone but his eyes betraying some emotion – what, Dean could not tell, but there was something there. "I also must agree that this is the option that Dean may have to take as well. With addendum you made, I see no issue with the contract. We will be there with Dean to protect him, if needed."

Sam's shoulders slumped in defeat at the response, Bobby scowled and turned away, and Crowley smirked in satisfaction. Dean just studied Cas for a moment and then made two decisions.

One, he would go through with the deal. Two, he would find out what Cas was hiding – one way or another.

**AN**: Don't forget I also have a poll up for what form Harry's animagus will be on my profile. Check it out asap - the poll will be closed before the next chapter. See you next time! Love, Insie


	4. Chapter 4

**Note**: Thanks for all of the support, everyone! It keeps me going. This is going to be an explanation chapter - though not everything will explained. Gotta keep some things to myself until the time is right ;) And I actually did research for this chapter when it comes to angelic/nephilim lore, so I hope you like it.

Please enjoy.

Chapter Four

The deal was done. Dean signed the contract and unfortunately sealed it with a kiss, which the other two men and the angel awkwardly, yet pointedly, looked away from. They decided Dean, Sam and Cas would travel to Britain tomorrow to trap the Death Master, Bobby would stay and research the lore they had on the Master of Death and call in more contacts, and Crowley would scurry off to wherever he went to when he was not with them.

After much discussion, they decided Cas would fly the three of them, even though it wasted some of his precious 'angel battery' as Dean so aptly named. There was too much of a risk for the Winchesters to fly internationally with the numerous arrest warrants out for them, and they would not have been able to take their weapons with them. Dean was more than happy with the decision and ignored Sam muttering 'wuss' under his breath.

Once it was just Sam, Dean, and Castiel left in the kitchen, they all sat down. Dean decided it was time he confronted Castiel about the feelings in his gut: the angel was hiding something.

"OK, Cas – what's up?" Dean asked pointedly. "I know you know something – are keeping something from us. What is it?" When Cas fidgeted, Dean grabbed the angel's wrist, just in case the other decided to literally fly off. "C'mon, man – my soul is a little bit on the line here. What are we dealing with?"

Castiel looked from Dean to Sam and back to Dean, and then sighed.

"Well, it would be better for you both to know the exact nature of what we are dealing with," Castiel admitted.

"Duh, Cas, duh," Dean fired back, and Sam concurred with what Dean classified as bitchface #83.

"It's a long story," Castiel began. "But it starts with prophecy."

_In the Age before the Apocalypse,_

_A child born of a Son of God and Son of Adam_

_Shall be marked by One Who Flees from Death._

_The Abomination will Rise_

_And defeat his marker,_

_Smiting Evil from the land._

"We remained watchful, and sure enough during the mid-twentieth century anno domini, Lord Voldemort began to rise in power."

"What did he have to do with the crystal ball, mumbo jumbo," Dean asked.

"Voldemort literally means 'flee from death' in French," Sam explained. "_Vol de Mort._ Now let Cas finish the story!"

"Thank you, Sam," Casitel replied as Dean made a face at his brother. The man dropped it when the angel turned his attention back to him. "And it was not 'crystal ball, mumbo jumbo' – a prophet made this prediction millennia ago. It was a grave prophecy with frightening implications – it meant that an abomination to the Lord would have to be created to counteract Evil and for the apocalypse to take place.

"Once we caught sight of Lord Voldemort, we understood why we would need an abomination. He had taken on black magic and conducted numerous demonic rituals that resulted in his being invulnerable to all human and demonic magic. With these magicks, he created horcruxes, splitting his soul into pieces and placing them into inanimate objects, which would make him immortal in human standards; as to be dead, the complete soul must be in some aspect of the netherworld. As angels were, at the time, instructed not to interfere with humanity, we would not be able to smite the wizard..."

"But an abomination could," Sam finished for Castiel, putting two and two together. "So an abomination, the child of a son of God and son of Adam– a nephilim?"

"A nefa-what?" Dean gruffed, confused.

"A nephilim, the child of an angel and human," Castiel answered, looking away. "You are correct Sam, it would be a nephilim: an abomination to the Lord. The original nephilim were the product of the egrḗgoroi, the Watchers.

"The Watchers were angels assigned to Earth to watch over humans after Adam and Eve were cast from the Garden. Many of the Watchers began to lust after the human women and began to defect from Heaven. In the end, 200 angels fell and began to procreate among the daughters of Eve and began teaching men forbidden knowledge: war, weaponry, magic, signs of the earth and sky. Their children – the nephillim – were giants in human terms and were evil pillagers of the Earth who left only destruction in their wake. In order to rid the Earth of nephilim, Father sent the Great Flood. Uriel warned Noah to preserve humanity, and all but ten percent of the nephilim's souls perished in the waters. The ten percent left became demons, to lead Man astray until Final Judgment. Those angels that begat them were cast in chains into Tartarus. Uriel was their guard. That is the fate for any angel that produces nephilim, and no angel had strayed since."(1)

"Well, obviously one _did_," Dean snorted derisively.

"Yes, that is why I said 'no angel _had _strayed,'" Casitel clarified, still refusing to make eye contact with the brothers. "There are exceptions to the rule. The prophecy called for an abomination. We realized it had to be a nephilim, as it was the only creature aside from an angel that could counteract the cross of such large volumes of demonic and human magicks. It was decided that the angel would have to procreate with a human and that angel who procreated would not be punished by Heaven for the task."

"Why?" Dean asked, intrigued. Sexual taboos and 'exceptions to rules' always intrigued him for obvious reasons. "Because it was prophecy? Because it would be an angel doing the catching instead of the pitching?"

"The exception is because the act would be for mere procreation not _lust_," Castiel answered, his gruff monotone having a snappish quality to it. He then finally looked at Dean and tilted his head, his blue eyes confused. "I do not understand that reference to catching and pitching – is that a sport? Because no sport was involved in it."

Dean smirked and opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by Sam who glared at his brother.

"What Dean means is that, was the reason the angel would not be punished because human would be the one to, uh, have intercourse in the angel and, uh, impregnate the angel," Sam responded, his ears tinting pink. "Since the prophecy said Son of God and Son of Adam – and you've told us countless times that angels don't have genders, so the angel was in a female vessel and was impregnated. Right?"

"No," Castiel replied. "Each angel was created individually by God's hand. Angels cannot carry offspring, because we were not created that way."

The brothers both looked at each other in disbelief as they realized what Castiel was saying.

"Wait – are you saying that an angel knocked up a _man_?" Dean exclaimed. "That's crazy – men _can't_ get pregnant."

"No, not biologically – but those born with a great amount of magic can," Castiel replied and looked away again. "Men born with magic can carry a child to term and birth him/her. The magic transfigures the wizard-carrier's sperm into an egg and fertilizes the sire's sperm within the egg, making a child. The child grows in a womb created and sustained by magic within the carrier. Then a passage is created for the child to birthed out of. It's all seamless, really."

"We'll take your word for it," Dead said, looking queasy.

"So – why with a wizard?" Sam asked, his mind boggled as well. "I mean – I know that the prophecy said Son of Adam, but – still, why not a woman, or a born witch?"

"The magic it takes to support a male pregnancy is very great – that is why only those wizards of high magic ability can conceive and carry a child to term," Castiel explained. "Growing within a womb of pure magic, the child becomes saturated with power. His/her magical core is larger as a result – they can retain much more power. It is very rare – and those children are highly valued. Such a child's power in conjunction with nephilim abilities is a deadly force indeed – more than enough to take down the warped soul of Lord Voldemort.

"So, an angel came down from Heaven, lay with a wizard, and sired a child. He was told after that a child of prophecy would be born from their union, but he did not believe until a month later, when he learned of the pregnancy. He was cautioned to hide the child, so as it keep it safe so it would grow into the warrior that was needed. The wizard married a dear friend, and she pretended to be with child, and he hid his pregnancy with glamour magic. The nephilim that was born to them was Harry James Potter.

"The couple was killed when the boy was a year and a half old by Lord Voldemort. Just as there was an angelic prophecy about the Dark Lord and the boy that would defeat him, the angels created a human one. It was arranged that his spy would hear part of the human prophecy that stated that a boy born at the end of July to those who had thrice defied him. It happened as planned. The spy reported back its findings, and Lord Voldemort went after them, and after killing the parents, he turned his wand to the boy and cast the highest curse human magic possesses: _avada kedavra_, the killing curse. The curse was the first enchantment taught to man by Armoni, one of the leaders of the fallen Watchers. As it is the oldest magic humans have possessed, it has the most power: it immediately removes the soul from the vessel. Death is inescapable and no enchantment or armor can block its path... for humans, that is.

"When the curse hit the nephilim, it rebounded and struck Lord Voldemort, tearing his soul from his body. He did not die, but was left a weak wraith. It took him nearly fourteen years to gain his own body back. This gave enough time for the nephilim to grow into his powers. Two years after gaining his body back, the nephilim and his people were able to track all of the inanimate horcruxes and destroy them. There were only two left. A snake and the one within the nephilim himself."

"Wait – I thought you said he could only split his soul into inanimate objects," Sam interrupted. "Why would he put one within Harry – and a snake?"

"I am not knowledgeable as to why he chose the snake," the angel replied. "But, for the nephilim, it was not purposeful. Let me explain.

"When a human commits murder, not just killing in self-defense or within war, but the murder of innocents, it splinters the soul. Eventually, it heals but leaves scars. However, that takes time. Someone who can perceive his soul can take the splinter and put it within an object to create a horcrux, with the right pre-ritual. Only humans with some amount of heavenly grace or, like Lord Voldemort, high demonic power can perceive souls. By the time he arrived to kill the nephilim, he had six horcruxes. He intended to use the murder of the nephilim as his seventh horcrux.

"The magical backlash of the cast spell was enormous. If he had no horcruxes, he would have died instantly. However he already had horcruxes that ensured his soul could not pass to the netherworld. His body disintegrated, but his soul remained. Unknowing to him, because of the murder he committed in Lily Potter and the pre-ritual, the soul left split into two. One half of the soul escaped to the wilds of the Earth and the other half went into the nephilim."

"Wait you mean –" Sam started, and now he started to look sick. He thought back to Azazel and what the demon had done to him the night his nursery burned.

"That thing _was in him_?" Dean finished for his brother, realizing the other could not. "So was he possessed or what?"

"Not as such, no," Castiel replied. "He was a living vessel for the soul shard. He carried it within him and it had little effect on his life, aside from inheriting some of Lord Voldemort's magical gifts and having a connection with him. The nephilim would have visions of the other, as present actions were occurring, especially emotional transference – but that was all. The shard never possessed him, because it was too small to do so. So it just sat within him until the final battle, when Lord Voldemort destroyed it himself."

"Why would he destroy it?" Sam asked.

"He did not do so intentionally," Castiel said. "The nephilim was led to believe that he had to sacrifice his life to Lord Voldemort in order for him to be defeated. After instructing a fellow comrade to kill the snake, the nephilim walked up to his enemy, and Lord Voldemort cast _avada kedvra_. What both wizards and all the humans who watched did not know was that the curse would not kill him but rather killed the soul shard within the boy, destroying it.

"Surviving the curse caused enough confusion for his side to have the upper hand. His comrade killed the snake, and the nephilim defeated Lord Voldemort. And his purpose was complete."

Castiel, who had been staring at the ceiling, now stared at his hands and flexed them. At that moment, Dean noticed he was still holding the angel's wrist and quickly took his hand away and glanced at Sam and felt relief when he saw that the other was not paying attention to the actions of his brother's hands. Then he noticed that Sam was wearing bitchface #7. Shit.

"And then what happened?" Sam asked, his voice lowered and his eyes bright. Castiel snapped his eyes up and caught the man's, and even he realized the younger Winchester was upset. "What happened to Harry?"

"The nephilim was... disposed of," Castiel answered. "Or so we thought." And put his head to his hands and sighed.

"What the fuck," Dean barked out, and Sam looked just as livid. "So, this kid who sacrificed everything to take out this Vol-De-Douchebag was killed for his efforts? Seriously, _what the hell_, Cas? Is that what we're _fighting _for? To kill kids who did their part?"

"How many werewolves, vampires, and other creatures have you killed in your day?" Castiel asked, heat coming into his voice as he raised his head and stared Dean in the eye.

"That's different," Dean snapped defensively. "They had hurt or killed people. They were a danger to society."

"And so it was determined the nephilim would be," Castiel countered, though the heat was gone from his voice. The angel looked exhausted, and that startled Dean. He understood for the first time the toll that being cut off from heaven must have been causing the angel. "You weren't there when they were first around. Back in the days before the Great Flood. They only brought destruction in their wake – no goodness for mankind. They are abominations for a reason.

"And this nephilim had great power, and once he killed Lord Voldemort, he continued to kill. He tore through creatures and humans alike, and smote the demons as Crowley said. How many more would he have destroyed? How many of his own people would he have taken down? So it was decided... he would be smote. And so it was. Heaven's grace fell onto him like a lightening bolt and he erupted into black flames. He let out one final surge of energy, destroying all of the demon's vessels. The 'red' in the shockwave was from the disintegration of their bodies: they all turned into a red mist. Nothing was left of the nephilim but ash."

"What did his angel-father think of this?" Sam asked, furious. "Didn't the dick care that his son _was killed_ by his _brothers_?"

"He – he _felt_," Castiel whispered, looking away from them again. "Angels do not have emotions: it is a failing to have them. He admitted his feeling to Uriel who did not send him to Tartarus with the other nephilim sires, because the angel had been honest and had not tried to hide his feelings. He was, however, re-indoctrinated, to gain more solace and understandings that it was the Father's will that it be done and to obey Father and his ways. The nephilim had to be created to counteract the evil. It was the only thing that could be done to save Father's ultimate creation: humanity. And once he had done so, he needed to be put down, to prevent more destruction of humanity."

"So you dicks used him as a weapon!" Sam exclaimed, and stood quickly from his chair. "Created to take down a monster and then disposed of. I can't believe I prayed to you lot – that I prayed every day. That you would create a child only to be used in war – oh, wait that's what you did with us, wasn't it –"

"Sammy-" Dean called, trying to calm his brother down.

"Just created us to be _meat suits_," Sam continued, "to be part of your little _apocalypse party_."

"I don't believe in that anymore," Castiel argued, and Dean thought he looked ashamed.

"In what? The apocalypse or killing Harry?" Sam accused.

Dean wanted to defend Cas, he really did, because Sam was scary when you riled him up as much as he was now. But he was also wondering that same question. His heart pounded harder when Castiel did not answer.

"Cas, _would you kill him if you had the chance_?" Sam asked, leaning on the table with both hands, his jaw clenched and eyes burning. Shit, Dean thought, when did his little brother get so intimidating?

"No, I will not 'shoot first, ask questions later'" Castiel finally answered, though he looked in pain to do so. "But even the thought of him – he is an abomination to my species. He _feels_ wrong. That will not go away."

He glanced away for a moment, gathered his thoughts, looked back at Sam, and leaned forward towards him, as if trying to intimidate Sam in return by mirroring him.

"But you must understand, that he may be a danger to society," Castiel said firmly, and was that a hint of sadness Dean heard in his voice? "He may have to be disposed of. Again. Do not of a moment let your guard down around him. The nephilim eradicated hundreds of demons with his bare hands and destroyed even more vessels. He slew a wizard who had more control of human and demonic magic than any other in a millennium. Two humans would mean nothing to him. You _must be careful_. We don't even know how he survived or how the Deathly Hallows works."

Sam sighed and looked as if the wind left his sails. Although he thought it was awful that the angels had yet again manipulated people, he had too much experience as a hunter not to heed Castiel's warning. Just because someone was forced into something did not mean they were not dangerous. He slumped down into his chair.

"So you guys didn't know about the Death Master stuff?" Dean asked, picking up on that bit. That would explain why the angels thought the boy was dead.

"No, we were unaware," Castiel replied. "We saw only ash in his place. There was a tiny bit of grace left, but just remnants. Not enough for even a child nephilim, let alone an adult. The nephilim were sent to purgatory upon their deaths, a place angels cannot tread, so we did not check. Not that we thought we needed to."

"Anything else we need to know, Cas?" Dean asked, and took a long breath when the angel shook his head. It was a long day, and it was about to get longer.

"OK, well, now that everyone here is on the same page," Dean said, glaring at Cas, who looked away from him. Again. God that was getting old! "Let's rehash our plan to trap him and get the ring. We may need to make a few changes since now we know he's an entirely different _species_."

(1) This explanation for the nephilim come from Second Temple Judaism, the Book of Enoch, the Book of Jubilees, and Watcher lore. Forgive me, I'm not Jewish or a religious scholar, so I may not have gotten it right on point.

**AN**: There we go! An explanation… of course we know that Cas isn't telling them everything, aren't we ;)

Also, the results of the poll for Harry's animagus is… a phoenix! Thanks for the hundreds that voted!

A new poll is now up for the names of Harry's familiars - a raven and a snake. Check it out and pick one for the raven and one for the snake, please.

As always, I enjoy your comments/reviews! Thanks again to all that take part.

Next Chapter: the Trap. See you then!


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** Sorry this chapter is so short, but I wanted to get a little something out before Christmas. Please still enjoy – and thank you all for who voted on the names of the familiars (Raven-Branwen & Snake-Anani), commented, favourited, and followed.

**Chapter Five**

It was nice spring day in the Brecon Beacons. The fairly constant rain had allowed the greenery to multiply abundantly amongst the rocky hills and mountains. Surprisingly, today there was not even a hint of a cloud in the sky, just pure blue and a bright sun. The plush green hills rolled and spiked up from the earth, and a black bird flew to a nearby tree.

If his soul wasn't on the line and he wasn't having hallucinations of the hounds, Dean would have thought it a beautiful sight. As it was, Dean kept his eyes clenched close as Sam held his arm, keeping him grounded in this reality. They sat in one of the valleys on the plush grass, alone as far as they could tell. Except for a few sheep. It was Wales after all.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, and put his fist to his mouth, trying to keep from being sick.

"Dean, it's not real," Sam said, trying to calm his brother. "We still have two days. Let's just try to enjoy them OK?"

After Castiel confessed what the true nature of the Death Master was, the brothers decided they would have to be extra cautious while going about their plan. No one had any idea how the nephilim tracked the contracted souls, so the Winchesters and Castiel took no chances. After dropping off the men in the UK, the angel vanished, not wanting to spook the target. The brothers themselves just tried to act like tourists and that they really did believe that Dean was going to lose his soul at the end of the contract.

Dean had a feeling that a part of Sammy feared that was what would happen; but Dean trusted Crowley – not his word, but rather his self-interest. If the demon took his soul, then their side would lose, and thus he would lose. Not only that, but Sammy would make it his mission to burn Crowley by any means necessary that was for sure. No, Crowley would keep to the contract.

But, fuck if it didn't suck balls in the interim.

"Dean, are you in there?" Sam asked, shaking Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, Sammy," Dean replied and took breath. He opened his eyes and let out the breath he held when he realized the hallucinations were gone. For now. "Yeah, I'm OK for now." He took in the view and whistled. "This sure is a nice place. Why'd ya pick to come here? How'd you even know about this place? I'd never even heard of Wales before." It was the truth, even though he was play-acting.

"Well, I _read_," Sam said, and although his tone was bitchy, he was smiling. He did soften his tone as he continued. "And I know you hate the city and just toured London because I really wanted to. So, I researched and thought this would be a nice place to camp. Just the two of us."

"With lines like that, no wonder people think we're gay for each other," Dean smirked, unable to resist, and earned a punch in the arm from his brother.

"C'mon _bro_, you going to help me set up the tent?" Sam said as he rose from the ground and started to make his way over to their gear.

"Nah, I'm just going to let you do all the work," Dean said as he lounged on the grass. "God knows you owe me from all the time I did all the work when we were kids."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it. Now was not the time to bring up old drama. So, he just sighed and went about finishing making up camp. They had been half way through when Dean heard the howl of the hounds and began to hallucinate.

Dean kept staring at all the greenery when the black bird cawed. It slightly startled the man, though he would never admit it, and he quickly turned his attention to the bird.

It was a large black bird, larger than the crackles he was used to at home. This one seemed strange, though. The bird just stared at him and tilted his head as if it was trying to understand him. When Dean mimicked the tilting, it cawed at him again.

"What are you doing Dean?" Sam called from where he was putting up the tent.

"There's this crow just starin' at me funky," Dean said, and the bird ruffled its feathers in response and turned its head away from the man "It doesn't seem to like me calling it a crow, though."

"Of course not," a voice said behind them. "Branwen is a raven not a crow. Just a matter of a pinion (1), but she get's fussy."

Both Sam and Dean jumped to their feet and turned around to confront the voice.

A black-haired giant (2) with a scarred face and jade-green eyes met their gaze.

(1) Old joke. The only difference between a crow and a raven is that a crow has five pinion feathers and a raven has four... so it's just a matter of _a pinion_! (Well, I think it's funny.)

(2) For the record, Harry is going to be giant tall like Sam, but not a giant like Hagrid/Grawp.

**AN**: I know! A cliffie! But, I promise, the next chapter is worth it.


End file.
